the demons who had been knocked out of the sky by a light blast. A pale shimmer of light spread from the man, and the demon shrieked as the pulsing blue aura closed around it, so that it could no longer move.
As the two captains approached the new arrivals, the single flyer returned and joined his comrades. Mark and Ikawa stopped about a dozen feet away from the flyers.
Their clothing was white, or light blue; it was hard to tell in the predawn light. Their garments were plain: a collared tunic held by a broad leather belt with glowing crystals in it, trousers, and calf-high boots of black leather. They also wore wristbands set with a brightly shining crystal on each arm. Each man seemed to be covered by an aura of light, and they glowed in the fading starlight. The three men were motionless, slender, almost fragile looking, but Mark would never have said so to their faces. Mark took another step and held out his hands, palms downward.
"Be careful not to point at them," Ikawa warned, stepping forward as though he didn't want these strangers to think him inferior to the American.
"Do you speak English?" Mark asked.
They were silent.
"Damn it, you Americans always think that everyone else should speak English," Ikawa muttered.
"Well, what else do you expect me to ask?"
"Let's not argue in front of them," Ikawa replied, and smiling, he gave a bow reserved for a possible superior.
The flyer on the left nodded in Ikawa's direction and then whispered to the one in the center.
Mark correctly guessed that the one in the center must be the leader and he advanced another step towards him. Feeling foolish, he imitated Ikawa's bow, realizing that the courtesy had most likely made a positive impression.
" Ilya na, mui vaneria na? "
Mark locked eye contact with the one in the center who had just spoken and smiled, shaking his head.
" Ilya na, masa du nara, Sarnak tu Allic tu Patrice. "
Again Mark shook his head, then threw in the typical American gesture of shrugging his shoulders and cautiously raising his hands.
" Naga! " the one to the right shouted and stepped to the center, raising his hand in Mark's direction.
" Toman bishu, " the one in the center yelled. Stepping in front of his protector, he forced his arm back down. He stepped towards Mark and cautiously raised his hand.
"Mark, step back," Ikawa warned.
"I think it's all right. Look, Captain Ikawa, we've got to make friends somewhere; I prefer these to those demons we just faced."
Before Ikawa could protest, Mark stepped closer, keeping his hands down.
The man before him was light skinned, not quite Caucasian but neither was he Negroid or Oriental. It was as though the three had been blended together. His eyes were penetrating, with an intensity of power that Mark felt was somewhat superior to his own. But he forced himself to hold the gaze and the stranger smiled and held up his hand.
He's going to strike me, Mark thought. He waited for the blow but there was only a light touch to his forehead.
"My name is Pina, second commander of my lord Allic. This is his fief you tread upon, stranger."
He thought this Pina was speaking English and for a moment he wanted to laugh at Ikawa's comment about English, but then he realized that the language was strangely different.
"I can sense your confusion, stranger, by the power of the crystal." He pointed to a softly glowing crystal centered on his belt. "I have given you the power to understand our speech."
"How?" Mark asked incredulously.
"Let us not waste time with such talk now. There is much to do, and first I must decide about you and your companions,"
"Decide what?"
"Is it not obvious? You are strangers here, interlopers on my lord's fiefdom. Is that not enough to decide? Now tell your comrade that I wish to touch him so that he might speak as well, and that I mean him no harm."
Mark turned to do as he was asked.
Pina could sense more caution, more wariness, but also an iron control in the second outlander
As the two captains approached the new arrivals, the single flyer returned and joined his comrades. Mark and Ikawa stopped about a dozen feet away from the flyers.
Their clothing was white, or light blue; it was hard to tell in the predawn light. Their garments were plain: a collared tunic held by a broad leather belt with glowing crystals in it, trousers, and calf-high boots of black leather. They also wore wristbands set with a brightly shining crystal on each arm. Each man seemed to be covered by an aura of light, and they glowed in the fading starlight. The three men were motionless, slender, almost fragile looking, but Mark would never have said so to their faces. Mark took another step and held out his hands, palms downward.
"Be careful not to point at them," Ikawa warned, stepping forward as though he didn't want these strangers to think him inferior to the American.
"Do you speak English?" Mark asked.
They were silent.
"Damn it, you Americans always think that everyone else should speak English," Ikawa muttered.
"Well, what else do you expect me to ask?"
"Let's not argue in front of them," Ikawa replied, and smiling, he gave a bow reserved for a possible superior.
The flyer on the left nodded in Ikawa's direction and then whispered to the one in the center.
Mark correctly guessed that the one in the center must be the leader and he advanced another step towards him. Feeling foolish, he imitated Ikawa's bow, realizing that the courtesy had most likely made a positive impression.
" Ilya na, mui vaneria na? "
Mark locked eye contact with the one in the center who had just spoken and smiled, shaking his head.
" Ilya na, masa du nara, Sarnak tu Allic tu Patrice. "
Again Mark shook his head, then threw in the typical American gesture of shrugging his shoulders and cautiously raising his hands.
" Naga! " the one to the right shouted and stepped to the center, raising his hand in Mark's direction.
" Toman bishu, " the one in the center yelled. Stepping in front of his protector, he forced his arm back down. He stepped towards Mark and cautiously raised his hand.
"Mark, step back," Ikawa warned.
"I think it's all right. Look, Captain Ikawa, we've got to make friends somewhere; I prefer these to those demons we just faced."
Before Ikawa could protest, Mark stepped closer, keeping his hands down.
The man before him was light skinned, not quite Caucasian but neither was he Negroid or Oriental. It was as though the three had been blended together. His eyes were penetrating, with an intensity of power that Mark felt was somewhat superior to his own. But he forced himself to hold the gaze and the stranger smiled and held up his hand.
He's going to strike me, Mark thought. He waited for the blow but there was only a light touch to his forehead.
"My name is Pina, second commander of my lord Allic. This is his fief you tread upon, stranger."
He thought this Pina was speaking English and for a moment he wanted to laugh at Ikawa's comment about English, but then he realized that the language was strangely different.
"I can sense your confusion, stranger, by the power of the crystal." He pointed to a softly glowing crystal centered on his belt. "I have given you the power to understand our speech."
"How?" Mark asked incredulously.
"Let us not waste time with such talk now. There is much to do, and first I must decide about you and your companions,"
"Decide what?"
"Is it not obvious? You are strangers here, interlopers on my lord's fiefdom. Is that not enough to decide? Now tell your comrade that I wish to touch him so that he might speak as well, and that I mean him no harm."
Mark turned to do as he was asked.
Pina could sense more caution, more wariness, but also an iron control in the second outlander
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